


Salvation

by Stxrsfu



Series: The Lost Art of Murder [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Michael deserved better, Romance, Soulmates, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-23 10:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stxrsfu/pseuds/Stxrsfu
Summary: ❝I feel safe in the 5am light,you carry my fears as theheavens set fire.❞When Mallory realized that killing Michael did not stop the apocalypse, she had a change of heart. By the time Devan Campbell brought the world to its knees, 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, she'd told Cordelia everything and both of them agreed that travelling back in time to kill the Antichrist wouldn't eternally fix this issue. They needed another type of strength and the only one she could think of was the curly beach haired boy she had run over, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴. Except, only in the timeline that they decided to help Michael did Emilia appear at the academy's doorstep and it left Mallory questioning why.Or; Michael Langdon only finds his soulmate when he's given salvation.





	1. Altered Fate

PROLOGUE

 

By the age of four, Emilia Duchannes had dreamt of the day her mother would die. At first her father had dismissed it as a fleeting thought, too wrapped in grief to worry about his darling little girl seeing the future. When Emilia was eight years old, she grieved for her grandparent’s death three days before the rest of her family, having already known they would die in a car crash. It had unsettled her father, to say the least and he was apprehensive to ignore it, but dismissed it as a phase. Within the following ten years, no utterance of a premonition had her father relieved that it had just been a phase. That is, until one night she turned up outside his bedroom door, red rimmed eyes, muttering something about him dying in two days. It had been that following morning the two of them packed their bags, her father eager for them to arrive at Ms Roubichaux’s academy, after all, his life depended on it.

 

* * *

 

 

CHAPTER ONE: Altered Fate

 

The spoon tipped against the edge of the cup repeatedly evoking a clinking sound. Atticus Duchannes glanced around the room slowly, uncertainty beginning to fill the cavern of doubt in his mind, _perhaps this is the wrong place._ Sitting adjacent to the lady who ran this academy, Cordelia Goode, himself and his daughter remained momentarily silent while they stirred their tea. Tapping the spoon against the edge of the cup to drain any remaining droplets, Atticus leaned forward to place it on the tray that was to the side of Cordelia’s desk.

 

“How may I help the both of you?” Her tone was laced with sugar as her smile softened and Atticus would have been lying if he didn’t find relief in her tone. Although he severely doubted that she could entirely help them, _but this was his only choice._ Glancing towards Emilia, she stared off into the distance, aware of the conversation enough that she could register what they would say, but she didn’t want to participate.

 

“You see, Ms Goode-“

 

“Cordelia, please.” The soft smile remained on her face as she vanquished the informality.

 

“Cordelia,” Atticus corrected a small smile pulling at his lips momentarily before it morphed back into the concerned expression that he wore ever since that night. Clearing his throat he took a sip from the tea, slightly unsure as to how to proceed. She would consider them crazed, after all, that thought had crossed his mind about his daughter. The first time it happened, he’d barely paid attention, too wrapped in grief to find the will to question it. However, it was when her grandparents ahd died that Atticus truly wondered what sorcery his daughter had. Those two instajces had been the only ones he knew about and he couldn’t say with certainty that it hadn’t happened again, but when she told him that she saw when he would die, he couldn’t ignore that. “We have a predicament, you see. Emilia,” clearing his throat once more, he glanced towards his daughter while Cordelia arched her eyebrow slightly, willing him to continue.

 

“Emilia sees when certain things will happen to people…before they happen.”

 

The room fell silent. Refusing to look at either of them, the honey haired girl continued to glance outside the window, noticing as a group of students sat around in a circle on a patch of grass. Despite not participating in the conversation, it did not stop the growing anxiety building up within her. She had not wished to travel across state on such a whim and had begged her dad to just follow her instructions to remain safe. Although, he wouldn’t allow it and claimed that this had gone on long enough. Except, she wondered if he considered the fact that discussing her deranged power could just sign her life away to an asylum.

 

“Emilia?”

 

Turning her head slowly, she met the soft gaze of Cordelia, sitting behind her desk with folded hands in front of her and she smiled softly towards the young girl. “Do you mind telling me more of these things you see?”

 

 _She seemed kind._ Glancing down at her palms, she ran slightly trembling fingers over each other out of nervous habit. “It isn’t normal… no one should see things like this.”

 

“You know, this academy’s purpose is to give exceptional young ladies the opportunity to flourish, to be themselves. You don’t have to worry about things like that here.”

 

 _She is kind._ Perhaps it was those words which seemed to give her some sort of solace, or the opportunity to finally discuss what had been suffocating her for years. Her father certainly would never want to discuss it and the only thing that made him do so now, was the selfish fear that he would die.

 

“They only come when I’m asleep or resting. A sudden veil of darkness followed by the scene that would unfold, but the image is always unclear, unfocused in parts, like it can be changed?” Voicing her thoughts aloud for the first time, she found Cordelia to intently listen while her father exhaled a low sigh of relief when she mentioned the fact that it could be changed, but she was not certain. “Sometimes, its little things, like the fact that it will rain and I’ll need an umbrella or that the milk is gone off. Other times… I’ve seen when people I love will die.” Meeting with Cordelia’s gaze, she was slightly surprised to see that she was not shocked and to tell the truth, she was relieved.

 

“I believe we can help you Emilia, help you navigate your gift and control it. Would you like that?” A soft smile once more placed itself on her lips and Emilia looked over at her father, silently questioning what she should do. Atticus had an expression of relief sprayed across his features and he nodded once to his daughter, giving his opinion.

 

“I would like that very much Cordelia.”

 

And they proceeded to discuss this premonition she’d had about her father involving a bank robbery and sub sequential shooting. Atticus Duchannes from that day forth, did his banking online, just in case.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_AN HOUR LATER_

Mallory unnerved her. It wasn’t for any particular reason, it seemed being in the presence of the witch seemed to set her on edge, for whatever logic. By the time she had been shown around the academy, Cordelia showed her to the room that she would share with the witch and allowed her a few moments to settle in. Although that thought was difficult with the silence that enveloped the room, after polite conversation had been made between the two.

 

Sitting cross legged on the bed, she folded some of the clothes in her suitcase and sighed softly. “You know, I didn’t know how long I would be staying- still don’t know really, but I may have packed too lightly.” A soft chuckle fell from her lips and she met with Mallory’s gaze while she lowered a book slightly. “You’re free to borrow some of my clothes, if you want.”

 

 _And her words did feel genuine,_ but there was still something that was not sitting right.

 

“Thank you, that’s very kind. I might only need a spare t-shirt or something until my dad mails the rest of my clothes.” Pushing the suitcase to the bottom of the bed, slightly fed up of staring at her belongings, the silence once more dipped between them.

 

“How is he taking all of this?” Mallory’s sudden question caused Emilia to raise her eyebrows in slight surprise. In truth she had not given him much consideration, having known his stance on the whole idea of abilities for years. Deep down she wondered if she had told him that someone else would die, would they be staring at an asylum instead of the academy? _Maybe in another universe._

“As well as could be hoped, I suppose.”

 

Neither of them cared enough to elaborate and their shared room once more fell into an uncomfortable silence, until she stood up mumbling something about walking around the academy for a bit. In truth she desperately wished to escape from the ever so subtle gaze of the witch, it was as if she was scrutinizing her and searching deeply for some kind of an answer. Nevertheless, Emilia found herself able to breath better once she strolled through the halls.

 

It had not been too long since the academy had been projected onto global screens, one of the reasons why her father had taken her here. Although before she had considered that she would need to attend the academy, Emilia had remembered the uproar of millennial's who had grown up with fiction like Harry Potter, desperate to enter an academy for witches. In the beginning it appeared nearly every news outlet had some story from a young lady, many of the stories were hoaxes, people most likely rejected for having no powers and desperate to make some cash. The thought struck her as she walked down the stairs, for the academy was by no means empty, but it could hardly be considered burdened by girls either.

 

The bottom floor appeared practically empty as she walked towards the kitchen, the small heal of her black boots orchestrating the only sound. One glance outside the window confirmed that the other students were having a class outside. A soft sigh escaped her lips in relief that she could at least, have a moment of peace to gather her thoughts. Emilia opened various cupboards, clicking her tongue softly as she searched for a glass. Finally opening the right cupboard, a slight grin appeared on her lips to have finally found what she was looking for.

 

“Shouldn’t you be outside with the others?” The sudden sound of his voice startled her and she whipped around, gripping the glass tightly in fear of it falling and breaking. _He was tall._ Azure orbs that could easily make you lost in them, the beachy curls stood out in vibrant contrast to the plain black t-shirt and ripped jeans he wore. Although the fact that he was not wearing any shoes, made her believe that he also lived here.

 

“ _Shit!_ You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that.” Leaning against the counter she exhaled a low breath from being startled, noting his appearance had only taken a fraction of a second and could not soothe over the shock.

 

Emilia could have sworn that her reaction caused his lips to curl in amusement, even if only for a moment. “And no, to answer your question. I only arrived an hour ago.” Glancing at him with apprehension she pushed any feeling aside and outstretched her hand to formally introduce herself. “Emilia Duchannes.”

 

He barely skipped a beat before his hand connected with hers and he shook it while a small smile was painted on his lips. “Michael Langdon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Neither of them let go of the others hand instantly and she remained staring up at his oceanic gaze before snapping her attention back to the glass that was still clutched tightly in the other hand.

 

“I thought this academy was only for ‘exceptional young ladies’.” She pondered the thought out loud while turning the tap on to fill up the glass. A small tut of both amusement and disapproval fell from his lips, “that’s sexist.”

 

Emilia’s eyes widened slightly in realization how the comment could be interpreted, raising the glass to her lips she glanced over the brim of it to see the beach haired boy trying to conceal his amusement, but clearly he was entertained by her reaction. “That’s not what I meant… sorry, it says it on the pamphlet.”

 

This time, Michael did let a chuckle fall from his lips and he walked towards a chair, occupying it moments later. “Do you always believe everything you read?”

 

 _He was twisting this conversation._ Although she couldn’t find it in herself to take offense or be annoyed, clearly he was teasing her and enjoying as she fumbled to find an adequate response. Instead she resulted in taking another few sips of the water, to avoid digging herself into a further hole.

 

“I’m only teasing you, Emilia.” The smile that curled on his lips after he uttered her name caused butterflies to flutter within her. Michael Langdon seemed like an angel, his honey hued hair was practically a halo against his features and she did wonder as to why he was at the academy. Although with his lack of a response, she realized now was not the time to discuss it, if he ever did.

 

“Do you want anything from the kitchen, while I’m standing here?” It was the only response she found herself able to give without making some sort of fool of herself, she’d only met him moments ago and already she felt attracted to him. The only form of salvation she could find was pouring another glass of water while he hummed as he was thinking. “There’s a plate of cookies under that tartan towel.” Pointing to where he was talking about, she swiftly picked up the plate and carried it towards the table.

 

Taking the seat opposite of him, Emilia placed her glass of water down while he pulled off the towel. “Damn they look good.”

 

“One of the girls baked them this morning, I’m sure she won’t mind if I just have one…” Michael looked at them with wide oceanic orbs, as if a child was looking at something they were just about to take without permission _and he was._  “Do you want one?” He glanced towards her with one cookie in his hands.

 

“I’m okay, thank you.”

 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them and she couldn’t help, but compare it to the one with Mallory, which felt very uncomfortable. There was something about that witch she couldn’t quite place her finger on, but it was clear that neither of them trusted the other.

 

“How long have you been living here?” Asking the question casually, her manicured nails tapped against the glass out of habit more than anything and he didn’t seem to mind.

 

“A while, I’ve lost track.” Breaking the cookie in half, he indulged in the baked good in small quantities, most likely in an attempt to make it last. Still the remaining plate of cookies acted as pure temptation for another. “And you don’t attend the classes?” Arching her eyebrow slightly, her gaze turned towards the group of girls circled in the garden, the bright lit day certainly made it perfect weather.

 

“Is this an interview?” Michael tilted his head to the side slightly, amusement clear on his lips and sparkling in his gaze.

 

The way he cocked his head caused her to lean back in her chair, more casually than moments prior. “No… I’m just curious.” Shrugging slightly she was unsure how else to make conversation, it was as if she craved to know more about him.

 

“Alright, I’ll satisfy that curiosity.” Finishing off the final bite of the cookie, Michael dusted away any crumbs, lounging back in the chair afterwards. Stretching his legs, his barefoot bumped off hers in the process and she retracted so quickly that he let out another chuckle of amusement. “I don’t attend classes, this is my home, not my school.”

 

“Oh,” and she wondered how carefully those words had been chosen and what truth underlay those words. Although she couldn’t bring herself to elaborate and as luck would have it, she didn’t need to as Cordelia entered the kitchen, clasping her hands in front of her.

 

“I see you’ve met Michael, Emilia.” Her tone was as sweet as sugar and she doubted that there was a bad bone in her body, certainly not towards those she loved and protected.

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

Michael beamed towards the supreme, as if he was extremely proud for having the two of them being introduced and Cordelia returned the soft smile, walking towards the table to cover the cookies with the cloth. “Well then, now that you have started to settle in, why don’t you follow me to my office before you’re introduced to the rest of the girls?”

 

In truth she was looking forward to this conversation with Cordelia, because she desperately needed to control her foresight. Standing up, she was about to tidy away the glass when Michael placed his hand on it. “I’ll do it, don’t worry.”

 

“Thank you, I’ll see you later.” Waving slightly, she smiled as she followed Cordelia towards her office and she never knew how long he had kept his gaze on her, completely perplexed by a witch he had barely met five minutes ago. There was something about her, he could feel it like forgotten magic laying deep in his bones and he hoped he would see her soon.


	2. spark of friendship

When Mallory had first explained the situation to Cordelia, she admitted that she was sceptical. It was no easy pill to swallow the fact that this young witch had seen the world burn twice and _save_ it twice too. Perhaps it was the wisdom and pain lingering in Mallory’s eyes that compelled her to believe, since no one that young should carry such trouble with her. On a few occasions they had discussed this burden and while Mallory was certain she wasn’t depressed, it was the growing anxiety and pain that she would have to watch everyone and everything she loved, die for the third time, which haunted her.

 

The decision to save Michael Langdon was made quite quickly, despite Mallory having explicitly detailed all the heinous crimes he would commit. _“An even better reason. Save one soul in order to save millions.”_ It hadn’t been enough to convince Mallory, entirely, but both Zoe and Queenie were certain it was the right thing to do. The timing that they chose was good, but not perfect and not quick enough to save Constance Langdon from killing herself. They’d found a vulnerable boy in that Murder House and Cordelia found it very difficult to believe the boy sitting cross legged with a rubix cube, was indeed, on the precipice of being an Antichrist.

 

Despite how cliché it sounded, _an exorcism worked._ Although the cries of terror emitting from the boy were ones she never hoped to hear again and for an hour or two afterwards, she feared he would die. His ears had bled, violent shades of crimson as his skin deteriorated into an opalescent color.

 

_“This was a mistake; how could we do this to a child?” Running a damp cloth against his burning forehead, she looked at the young boy with a concerned gaze. There was little point in saving Michael if he was going to die in the process. His ragged breath concerned her deeply and based off of what Mallory had said, she wondered if he would survive without being embodied by evil intent._

_“We have no choice now, Cordelia. We will have to wait and see.” Mallory stood at the edge of the bed, unable to reflect the concern that her supreme had, but she waited anxiously to see if it worked. Those two were the only ones in the room at that time, both Zoe and Queenie ensuring that the other girls were kept occupied, but they would have questions. No one would be able to ignore the terrifying screams of torment that had come from the room._

_The daylight had faded into pitch black and as soon as it had, Cordelia told Mallory to get some sleep. The witch had been reluctant to leave her supreme alone, but she assured her that she would manage just fine. In truth she would not sleep if she left, she needed to know that he would make it through the night and no amount of herbal remedies seemed to be working. If he was truly a warlock, she dearly hoped that whatever magic flowed in his veins, would aid him now. She repeatedly dabbed the dampened cloth against his sweat drenched forehead, before sitting back in her chair and sighing softly._

_She’d always wanted a child. The thought caused her to ache. Perhaps it was Fiona’s lack of good parenting that partly burned this desire, for she had so much love to give and her child would have taken it all. Although the academy came close to the feeling that she imagined being a mother would be like, protective, caring and kind, but firm._

_Clouded eyes slowly opened and this mere slight response caused her to sit forward, a soft shushing sound coming from her lips as she placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his warm skin in an attempt of comfort. “It’s okay Michael, you’re okay now.”_

_He was responsive and that was good. While he may not have been entirely coherent, the trickle of tears that fell from his eyes made her think that he understood enough. Her thumb brushed each and every one away softly, neither of them uttering a word. “You’re safe, you’re safe now.” Her quiet words were a promise, because he would always be safe as long as she was nearby._

_Michael Langdon lay there, desiring nothing more than a mother and Cordelia Goode stayed with him the entire night, having always wanted a child and it appeared, the universe had given them what they had always wanted._

* * *

 

 

On her second day at the academy, Emilia found herself becoming more comfortable in the presence of other witches. The classes were fascinating and not only were they interesting, but she could see the practicality surrounding each task. It gave her a sense of purpose that she had not been aware she was lacking, but it only made her realise that this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

 

They currently sat in the dining room table, each seat occupied by a witch and a candle placed in front of each of them, while Zoe stood at the top of the table.

 

“Pyrokinesis is an ability that not everyone can harness,” she spoke slow enough for them all to understand and yet not too slow that they began to lose focus. “after all it is considered a seven wonder for a reason. With that being said, you don’t have to be a supreme to use this ability and each of you will begin practicing today. It will help when we branch off into the areas you are most comfortable with.”

 

Turning to their candles, each girl began different techniques to attempt practicing this ability. Yet as Emilia stared the candle down fiercely, she found absolutely _nothing_ happening. This seemed to be a common problem among many of the girls, but few flames flickered to life, earning words of praise from their instructor. Although more than four minutes on a task that was clearly not working for her, caused her to sigh in defeat and glance around instead.

 

It was at that moment that she noticed Michael, walking into the lounge across the way only to seat himself by the piano. If she was not so curious to look at him, she probably would have mentally chided herself for getting so distracted. Nevertheless, as his slender digits alighted on ivory keys and the mesmeric melody softly filled the space, she found herself enchanted. His head dipped lowly towards the keys, entirely engaged in the musical orchestration.

 

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he.” A dreamy voice interrupted her thoughts and she started her attention back to their lesson. The witch beside her, Cassandra, seemed to be also struggling with the task, judging from the untouched candle that was similar to her own. “Sorry, I guess I’d looked a bit longer than I should have…” the soft blush that rose to her cheeks caused the witch to laugh lowly, failing to cause other students to notice and most importantly, Zoe didn’t either. Their instructor was currently engaged in guiding one witch to make the flame more than a spark, convinced that she could do it since she was halfway there.

 

“Oh don’t apologise Em, you’re not the only one.” A small smirk formed on her lips as her gaze flickered back to Michael, but Emilia could hardly find herself able to do that again since she was still reeling in the embarrassment of being caught by another witch. “You know, he’s surrounded by girls and not one of us he’s interested in.” She tutted lowly in disapproval and sighed afterwards.

 

“Really?” Her higher pitched tone betrayed her, but she found that so _hard_ to believe. Was this not a dream for guys? To be the only one (except for Kyle, who was already taken) among many girls. She was certain that with a flick of his gaze and a few soft words, he could make any of them swoon. After all, it had just taken him to say her name before she realised she was in deep shit.

 

“Yep, all the years he’s lived here and not a single one of us.”

 

Cassandra seemed almost annoyed after saying that, toying with the unlit candle before pushing it away from her hold. “Not only that, but that witch, Mallory, she avoids him like he’s the devil or something.”

 

“What are you two discussing?” Zoe folded her hands in front of her while she stared at the two of them and for the second time in a few moments, Emilia found a blush of embarrassment warming her skin.

 

“Just how we can’t light these candles,” another exasperated sigh from Cassandra was enough for Emilia to think that they might get away with it. The disheartened expression over Michael seemed to match the lie that it was actually not being able to harness this power.

 

“Pyrokinesis is not for everyone, each witch has different powers that make her strong in her own right.” Their instructor immediately softened to soothe over any feeling of despair or disheartening that not being able to complete it may have brought.

 

“Does that mean we’ll never be able to harness it?” The question fell from her lips quicker than she’d been able to process the question herself.

 

“A witch’s power comes into its own in her own time, I would never say never.” Zoe smiled softly before resuming her position at the top of the table and began to explain the next instruction that they would need as the soft melody Michael played, accompanied the lesson.

 

 

The day had moved by effortlessly and while Pyrokinesis was definitely not her ability, telekinesis appeared to be working, to a certain degree. Granted she was only able to move the unlit candle ever so slightly, but Zoe had commended her, especially since she was only here for no more than two days. Somehow she found herself also filling with pride and when she thought of her father, she knew that he would definitely not be proud of that ability and she would have to hide it when she saw him next.

 

Thinking about the next time she would see him was an odd thing, especially since she didn’t find herself missing him. Was that so wrong? Some of the other witches were dreadfully homesick and they had been here longer than her. The academy seemed to have all types of people, because as much as there were those who missed their loved ones, there were people like herself and Cassandra who quite frankly, were unable to requite these feelings. She knew she would be happy when she saw him again though, just as long as they avoided any conversation of the academy and he went an entire conversation without a judging glance.

 

That night while they sat for dinner, the soft murmur of chatter accompanying classical music playing on some radio, Emilia found herself being reminded of Michael’s playing earlier and she looked around to see if he was nearby. “If you are looking for him, there’s no point. Michael doesn’t eat with us.”

“Why not?” She could hardly picture the beach haired boy sitting in the middle of all of them witches, but she figured he might sit at the empty seat at the edge of the table or something. To not eat with them entirely, made her almost sorry to hear that.

 

“I don’t know really; I think he reads or something.” Blowing on the soup, Cassandra seemed to deem it cool as moments later she began to eat.

“You know an awful lot about him Cassandra,” smiling softly Emilia pushed around the food on her plate. “Well, when you’re here as long as I’ve been, you pick up on a few things. Besides, there’s only so much concentration that can go towards witchcraft when he’s around.”

“So how long have you been here then?” Curiosity piqued within her once more, as she thought about the words Cassandra had said, speaking as if it had been quite a while.

 

“Three years, since our supreme did that broadcast on tv.”

 

“Shit, that’s a while.” Her eyebrows raised in slight surprise and Cassandra only smiled in amusement. “So how long does your education go on for then?”

 

“It’s simple, until the supreme decides that is all that can be taught to you. Look around, some girls here aren’t in our lessons.” Tilting her head to the side, she nodded over to one of the closer girls. Although Cassandra was not so subtle and managed to attract her attention.

 

“Something you want to say out loud, Cassandra?” The brunette stared at her in almost a challenging way and Emilia got an odd sense that she was in the middle of some sort of history between the two.

 

“Oh nothing,” her forcefully sweet tone seemed to sicken the brunette enough to roll her eyes in annoyance “I was just telling Emilia, that some people overstay their welcome.”

 

“Well then, Emilia, it is also important for you to realise some people don’t learn very fast.” She bared a pearly white smile, but it did not reach her eyes and Emilia found herself averting her gaze towards the dinner plate once more, but still noticing Cassandra’s jaw set in obvious anger.

 

“You bitch,” clenching her teeth tightly, she glared daggers at the other witch, the words having clearly stricken a chord.

 

And as a heated argument began between the two witches, it seemed to have alerted Queenie as she walked by, immediately intervening in the two witch’s behavior. Emilia allowed a sigh to pass her lips before she stood up, to leave the argument behind her. As the heels of her boots clicked against each step of the stairs, she heard as the argument slowly fizzled out with Queenie’s reminder that they were each other’s sisters and should always have each other’s back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Emilia would have returned to her shared room, if she hadn’t heard an almost low ricochet of guns coming from the only ajar door. Arching her eyebrow slightly she inched towards the room, wondering as to who was playing. Careful not to fully reveal herself as practically spying, she peaked through the crack only to see Michael sitting cross legged on the floor with a game console in his hands. The game wasn’t one she was familiar with, but to be fair, she hadn’t another sibling who would have played them.

 

Her gaze danced around the room in search of an empty plate or something that would confirm what Cassandra had said about him not eating with them. Why wouldn’t he? Another question she found herself wondering and once she had brought herself back from being submerged in her thoughts, she realised with a sharp shock that the guns had stopped making a noise.

 

Reluctantly she looked back to Michael and her heart sank when she found him staring at her with a small, amused, smile. Raising his hand he waved slightly and she took a step back, cursing lowly under her breath. It seemed to truly amuse him though as a soft laugh caused him to tip his head back and his soft curls moved with the motion until he opened his eyes afterwards, an even larger smile on his face.

 

“I wasn’t spying on you, I swear- I had only been passing- it was such an odd noise.” Speaking quickly she found herself avoiding looking at him, a blush rising to her cheeks having been seen in such a terrible situation, when really, it was her cursed curiosity to blame.

 

Michael stood up from his cross legged position while she continued to apologise and he chuckled while approaching the door, before pulling it open fully. “There’s nothing to forgive, you can come in, if you like.”

 

The soft smile on his face and the way his oceanic eyes gleamed with sincerity, softened her embarrassment and she found herself actually thinking about it. Yet it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to wait for a response since he returned to where he had been sitting at the end of his bed, on the floor, before taking a drink of the glass of milk beside him.

 

Fidgeting with her hands, she found her feet moving before she even had to think and she sat, slightly across from him on the floor, careful to ensure she sat properly in her black dress. “You didn’t come to dinner…” the tone of her voice fell quieter than she would have liked, but she supposed it didn’t matter much.

 

Michael shook his head, lowering the glass to wipe his mouth before replying. “No, every time I do, they all just stare at me. It’s uncomfortable,” he admitted before returning the glass to the floor. “I suppose it’s a bit weird for a guy to be here, but this is my home.”

 

“Are you a warlock?” She found herself asking something that had crossed her mind more than once. The fact that he didn’t attend any of their lessons made her wonder whether or not he was or perhaps he had finished, alike that unnamed girl who Cassandra had gotten on the wrong side of at dinner.

 

“Yeah I am.” Replying while picking up the game controller once more, he pressed buttons absentmindedly, but when Emilia looked at the small television screen she noticed that he was trying to leave that current level. “I don’t study here though, the all warlocks school I attend is currently on a two-week holiday, so I’m home.” Turning back to her he smiled that warm smile once more and she found it incredibly contagious.

 

“I’m really sorry Michael, I should have knocked or something. I just got upstairs hearing the sound of guns- “

 

“Emilia, its fine, I promise.” Michael gave her one last reassuring smile before turning to the screen and a second later, producing a second controller. From where exactly, she didn’t see, but he offered her it. “Play one game with me and then it will all be in the past.”

 

Reaching for the controller, she nodded her head once and Michael moved over, giving her space to join him in leaning against the end of the bed. Scooting to sit beside him, she turned to see what game they would play and having barely played with these types of games, she was certain that she would lose on multiple occasions.

 

As the daylight turned into dusk, one game turned into multiple and while Emilia Duchannes lost to Michael Langdon the first three times, eventually she found herself getting used to the game. With each time they played a friendship slowly began to form between the two, that would, unknown to them, last an eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support, it's really encouraging for a writer :) I would have updated sooner if my laptop didn't keep crashing, one of the worst things for a writer. 
> 
> I kept thinking about what Michael told Constance after he had killed the priest, how the priests words caused his ears to bleed, so I just played around with the idea of a cliche exorcism. This whole story falls into the category of alternate universe anyway, so I won't get too deep into some things.


	3. claim a prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia attempts to help Mallory, while Michael claiming a prize leads to a bigger issue being revealed.

Every week Cordelia met with Mallory, for no more than an hour they would sit in her office to discuss how the past week had been for the witch. During this time the other students would either be in the greenhouse or having a lesson outside, either way, nobody was around to disturb them and this was always done on purpose. The matter with Mallory was very delicate and fragile, it didn’t need the added stress of the inquisition of peering eyes.

 

Lifting the aromatic cup of tea, Cordelia glanced at the witch who stayed silent, opting to twirl the ring around her finger absentmindedly. Lowering the cup, she smiled softly before asking, “How has your week been Mallory?”

 

If she was to tell the truth, it had not improved at all, but feigning a lie would fail to deceive Cordelia and she felt unsure of how to respond to that question. It had been tougher than she expected, but then again, no one had ever been in this situation so there wasn’t like there was a lot of reference material. Even Cordelia was unsure of how exactly to help her and the best that either of them could do was sit and chat once a week. Sometimes they discussed trivial things, it always depended on the indication she gave Cordelia of how much or little she wished to discuss.

 

“Knowing Michael as a former antichrist and living under the same roof as him, is a challenge.” She finally voiced a thought, but they both knew it was a statement she had been struggling with for a while and wasn’t truly reflective of how that week had been for her.

 

“In a weeks’ time he will return to Hawthorn, you’ll only see him on the weekends then.” Her soft voice failed to soothe over the concept though, but she nodded once nevertheless.

 

She remembered _killing_ him, it left a bad taste in her mouth and twisted her gut violently, threatening her to be physically sick. The decision had been something they discussed only once, it had been instinct, rage, impulsive. But she remembered the jostling of the car as it ran him over, she remembered the glassy eyed boy leaving that house. It was only now that she understood he had been kicked out, _abandoned_ and she had killed him at his weakest point, it was _pathetic._ How could she hope to be a supreme if she treated her own kind like that? Each of them in the coven knew the pain of not being accepted, some more than others, but she had been blind sighted to ignore it in that moment and forever pay the price with guilt since then.

 

“Mallory,” the soft call from her supreme made her realise that tears had started to fall from her face. Wiping them hastily she almost bowed her head as if she was trying to hide it, but she couldn’t. “I’m sorry, guilt fills the silence for me every time.”

 

“You have nothing to feel guilty for Mallory, it was you who brought to my attention that we needed to help Michael.” Cordelia reached her hands forward for a moment before she paused, lowering her head for a moment to recollect her thoughts, she would need a new plan to try help her. Mallory’s situation was difficult for many reasons, it was unfathomable to watch the coven burn, not once, but _twice_ and it was a pain she couldn’t help her shoulder. “Have you talked to him recently?” Meeting with her gaze again, she hoped that the two would talk more often because she was certain they would get along, or it would help ease her conscience.

 

“No, nothing more than polite conversation.”

 

“That’s a start,” Cordelia encouraged her with a widening small, relieved to hear that Mallory had at least overcome not being able to look at him without an array of emotions clouding her judgement. “its progress, its good.”

 

Responding with a slight nod she returned her gaze down at her hands once more, having managed to once more keep the tears at bay by taking her mind away from thoughts that only provoked them. Cordelia once more allowed Mallory to discuss whatever else was on her mind by staying silent and sipping from the tea, while glancing out the window so not to place pressure on the young witch. One day, Mallory would be supreme, she knew that was her destiny. For a witch of her calibre and survival, could not escape fate without being considered among one of the greats, the only question that remained was when that hour would arrive. Although, it seemed that it would not be a reality that is years away.

 

“I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about something.” Looking up to her supreme, she found her eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion about what was in her thoughts. “In both other timelines, Emilia Duchannes was never in our coven, why now?”

 

It piqued Cordelia’s interest too and she found herself smiling once more. “And in both of those timelines, the world burned in fire. Perhaps, it is a sign that fate is changing.”

 

On that note, it seemed to spark a flicker of hope in the both of them that just maybe, this time would be different.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Emilia lost every single game she played with Michael and he found this _hilarious._ Convinced that it inflated his ego every time he would win, she could only stare in disbelief as he laughed lowly under his breath. She wished she could admit it was a one-night thing, but with each time she lost, she was determined to beat him even more until they were practically playing every night of the week. Her daily routine would always be the same, to attend lessons, have lunch, read for the afternoon, have dinner with the rest of the girls and then find her way to Michael, determined to beat him.

 

On the fifth night that she lost, she dropped the controller on her lap with a dramatic sigh, tossing her head back just as Michael chuckled under his breath in disbelief. The droning ‘game over’ voice was a cacophony of her failure yet again and her determination was withering.

 

‘’I’ve won, again.” Michael grinned triumphantly in her direction and she rolled her eyes. “Big surprise there.” Grumbling under her breath caused him to tut in disapproval, “that mood doesn’t suit you.”

 

Sighing she pushed the controller away, practically accepting her defeat, which only caused him to smile widely and he copied her actions by pushing his controller away too. Although his was inspired by victory and not defeat. “Alright, so what’s my prize?”

 

“You’ve won too many times; I could never afford a prize.” A smile tugged at her lips at that thought and when she looked at him again, his oceanic eyes gleamed with mischief. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She laughed slightly wondering what it was going through his mind.

 

“I only want one prize.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Fanta from the nearest store.” It was such a modest prize that she found herself shocked for a moment before shrugging her shoulders as if saying ‘why not’.

 

“Is it fine to be leaving at this hour?” Emilia glanced out the window at the already darkening sky, there were certain nights that some of the other witches would go out to supposed parties, Cordelia usually knew about those. However, she had never had the need to leave the academy, at all, to be honest, so she didn’t know the rules behind it.

“Course its fine, besides we won’t be long.” He flashed a smile and she found herself compelled to believe him, standing up to grab a few things before they leave.

 

“If you say so.” She hummed watching as he grabbed a black denim jacket. Arching an eyebrow in his direction, Emilia found herself questioning his choice of clothing. “Denim on denim, really Michael?”

 

Although the innocent look he cast in her direction, as if he didn’t see an issue with it only caused him to shrug his shoulders. “It’s becoming fashionable again. Besides, we won’t be gone long.”

 

“Long enough for you to think you need a jacket, should I grab one?”

 

“No need, come on Emilia.” He grinned in her direction as he sauntered out the door with such an air of ease that she wondered where he got it from.

 

The only thing she grabbed, quickly, was her purse before she returned to where Michael was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. If she was to tell the truth, there was a giddy excitement that was building in the pit of her stomach. She was almost certain it was because this moment was the first time she had left the academy, but she couldn’t say that with definite belief.

 

* * *

 

 

Between the two of them walking along the dimly lit path, wearing all black clothing, they’d garnered some odd looks, to say the least. Naturally people would be suspicious of two carefree people who were out at this hour, since the world wasn’t as safe as it used to be. The thought popped into her mind on more than one occasion, that perhaps, they could draw over unwanted attention and she regretted not being able to drive. However, driving lessons had always been the least of her father’s worries when he thought he may have a child that was crazy.

 

“What are you thinking about?” His melodic voice found its way through her thoughts and she snapped out of the brief trance she found herself in.

 

“Oh, just my father. My thoughts often revert back to him.”

“Do you miss him?”

 

“Is it bad if I say no?”

 

Michael seemed to take a moment, thinking of the words she said before he shook his head, his soft curls moving with his action. “No, it’s not bad.”

 

“He’s just… a complicated man to deal with.”

 

Unknown to her, Michael understand exactly what it was like to deal with a complex family, after all, his was origins was practically a twisted movie plot. Tossing his head back slightly his gaze lingered on the stars above their heads. It was truly a beautiful night for a walk, the soft breeze rustling stray leaves and strands of their hair.

 

“Oh, there’s a convenient store right ahead.” With the sight of the flickering luminate sign in the distance, their conversation fell into a distant memory. 

 

 

The dim lights casted a shadow over almost everything in the store, distorting its normal hue to appear almost greyish. Emilia imagined they didn’t get the greatest amount of business, judging from the terrible lighting and the fact that the three people in the store was herself, Michael and one employee. That said employee was perched on a stool flicking through a magazine while she popped bubble-gum. _This place definitely didn’t do good business at this hour._ While the store unnerved her slightly and she ran slender digits over her skin to preserve warmth, Michael walked briskly towards the fridges and seemed to find exactly the right Fanta immediately.

 

“Do you want one Emilia?” Turning around to look at her, his hand lingered on another can just in case she wanted one, but she shook her head softly. “I’m okay.”

 

Reaching out her hand she went to take the can he had chosen, intending to pay so they could leave as soon as possible. There was something about the store which greatly disturbed her, the chill in the air that was not from the fridges, was a deathly, ominous chill that caused her to wrap her arms around herself. It only left Michael narrowing his eyebrows with mild confusion and concern placed across his features.

 

Turning on her heel she gave him one last small smile before walking towards the till. A threaded hum came from the lights and she wondered, had it always been there? It only seemed to slowly amplify now that she was paying and as she handed over the money, the final pop of the employee’s bubble-gum was the final thing she heard before everything morphed.

 

_“You have disappointed him.” The hiss of a voice, deeply similar to a snake was the only physical feature she could make out. With the figure bent over a body, its back to her, she was unable to recognise or see who it was. “You were supposed to bring the apocalypse, but you brought shame and weakness.” Its foul voice accentuated the soft sounds and it tilted its neck back, rolling it against its shoulders before slowly rising._

_A soft gasp fell from her lips as she noticed the figure it had been concealing. Michael. Laying in a pool of his own blood, it trickled from his mouth, staining his lips and appearing vibrant against his greyish pallor, from the mass amount of blood he had lost. He was dying. Yet she almost didn’t recognise him, the soft curls that lay like a crown around his head had vanished and instead his hair was long and silky. The splatters of blood tainting it only stuck out like a sore thumb._

_“No matter. One son failed and the other shall not, I will finish what you started.” The other figure came face to face with her and she stared into orbs that were like an abyss as a vile smile stretched against its features. He raised his head as if he was bowing to an unseen entity, eyes rolling back in his head they turned to be completely white._

_Inhaling deeply, she stared with wide eyes as the scene morphed to display rotting carnage. Bodies strewn across the land_ , _littering the earth, humans with warped features from diseases and what she presumed was radiation, tainted from the touch of cruelty. Crimson stained foliage pooled in unnatural streams, a palette of violent reds, small fires ignited in patches of the scene and a shrieking wail from those who had lost loved ones became the tragic anthem of death._

_The figure who seemed to reign in sheer ecstasy from the scene before them, grinned maliciously as he stood over the dying body of Michael. It was as if he had claimed his final prize, his destiny. “I will bring the apocalypse.”_

“Emilia!” Her body shook and when her eyes fluttered open, they were blurred with tears restricting her vision. Yet she managed to make out Michael’s appearance and the tears fell from her eyes in a steady stream. A sigh of relief fell from his lips and his oceanic orbs searched hers frantically for any indication of what could have upset her, he only regretted having not yet mastered telepathy. His thumb softly brushed each tear as they fell, keeping his other arm around her, ensuring that she would be steadied. “It’s alright, you’re alright now.” His soft voice caused her to raise trembling fingers to wipe away the tears which persisted while that dreadful vision stained her mind. _Who was that figure? And why did he kill Michael?_

 

Michael took one last look in the direction of the stunned employee, mumbling something about her not feeling well, before he shook his jacket off his shoulders. Draping the black denim around her, he held her close while with his other hand he grabbed the Fanta. “I’m taking you back, okay?”

 

She could only nod in agreement as her shaking hands clutched the fabric closer, the smell of mint from his jacket anchoring her to that moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really touched by people's support, thank you so much! From here on out the plot thickens in a really good way.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, I'm so in love with this plotline. The basic idea is giving Michael the redemption arc that he deserved because *spoiler* the fact that he died for nothing really hurts. I've a good few ideas sorted for this and I'm looking forward to it! Thank you to anyone who has read :)


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